


An Agony of Blame

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: BDSM, Boys in Chains, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:23:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4240620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Rushlight</p><p>Obi-Wan believes that he failed Qui-Gon on a mission, and Qui-Gon proposes a new lesson to help his Padawan regain his self-confidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Agony of Blame

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Rating: NC-17
> 
> Category: Drama, B/D, h/c
> 
> Summary: Obi-Wan believes that he failed Qui-Gon on a mission, and Qui-Gon proposes a new lesson to help his Padawan regain his self-confidence.
> 
> Feedback: yes, please. Any and all comments welcome.
> 
> Disclaimer: The boyz aren't mine, much as I wish they were. They belong to George Lucas, who is a kind man for creating such a wonderful universe for us all to play in.
> 
> Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to Alex and Amy, who helped me tie up the nekkid Obi-doll and posed him with the Dom!Qui-doll in such a way that my wicked little mind immediately started hatching plot bunnies. Never let it be said that I am immune to visual inspiration. ;)

Obi-Wan collapsed onto his bed with a feeling of resignation, draping one arm over his eyes to block out the light. Of all his failures in his training as a Jedi (and there had been many), this was by far the worst. To fail was a part of the learning process; he knew that, understood it, but even so, his heart rebelled against the consequences that his disobedience had almost brought to pass.  
  
Memory rose up like a caged rancor in his mind, clawing at the bars of his psyche with the full intention of drawing blood. He could still feel the heat of the flames on his face, his arms, prickling his skin and searing the air around him as he tried to breathe. The roar of the fire was deafening, all-consuming, until it was difficult to think past its inexhaustible thunder. Each beat of Obi-Wan's heart had been painful, as he crawled blindly through the riotous haze of heat and stench and noxious black smoke, reaching out with his Force-honed senses to find what survivors remained in the palace after the Ngalian faction's terrorist attack.  
  
Thinking back, he found it interesting to note that he had spared no thought for his own safety in the beginning. There had been the sound of the twins, screaming their terror in their shared cradle down the hall, drifting to him in haunting wisps and fragments during lulls in the fire's furious roaring. There had been memory of the Vicar's niece, brave little thing that she was, staring up at him with hollow eyes from where he'd deposited her on the ground outside the building, murmuring her nanny's name over and over as he turned to go back inside the blazing torch that had once been her home.  
  
There had been no tears for him then. They had come later, after the immediate danger was over. He had behaved in every way as a true Jedi should, reduced to mere training, forced to leave his human heart behind as he fought his way through the inferno, searching for lives to save.  
  
It seemed that it went on forever. Even in memory, he was sure that the nightmare had to have lasted for far longer than it actually had. Tantalizingly, he remembered the trusting gaze of two sea-blue eyes, gazing up at him from out of the curve of his cloak where he had held his precious charge.  
  
*Jump, Padawan...*  
  
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, trying not to remember. But the memory of those eyes would not leave him. Little Johan, the Vicar's heir, barely three months old. Obi-Wan had rescued him, shrieking, from the nursery where he had been sleeping when the attack came. The roar of the fire was even louder then, piercing into Obi-Wan's skull with bright shards of pain and setting up a subdued ringing in his ears that refused to go away even afterwards, when the fire was only a lingering memory in his mind.   
  
The babe had quieted in Obi-Wan's arms, exhausted, no doubt, from its terror. Obi-Wan could feel the building groaning around him, and he knew without having to think about it that they did not have much time. The fire was implacable, insatiable, and it would not rest until it had brought the entire palace to the ground.  
  
The Force-shield he had erected around himself was wavering as his strength failed, but he ran through the inferno, dodging bits of falling masonry that fell like water away from the fire's touch. The heat was intolerable, and each breath was agony now. What strength he had left he used to soothe the babe. His entire being was focused on reaching the entrance of the palace, where he would be free of the flames, free of the pain, and there would be stars. Wild, brilliant, beautiful stars that didn't roar or shriek or try to melt the flesh from his bones. It was all he could think about.  
  
And then, at the last, it happened. Between one breath and the next, the floor in front of him crumbled away, opening up a chasm as wide as life itself, the bits of flooring swirling away into the flame-hued darkness below as if it were being engulfed by the fires of Gehenna. Obi-Wan skidded to a stop, the horror overwhelming him in a surge of almost giddy laughter.   
  
Qui-Gon was waiting for him on the other side. Obi-Wan could still remember the look on his Master's face, the flame-tinged horror in his eyes. *Jump, Padawan.* Obi-Wan clutched his cloak-wrapped burden tightly to his chest, trying to shield it from the worst of the flames. Eyes, wide and blue as the summer sea, gazed up at him, quiet and blameless and full of trust.  
  
Obi-Wan tore his gaze away from those uncondemning eyes and looked out across the abyss before him. Fear, unleashed now from the stresses of pain and physical weakness, brought him to his knees. His heart pounded with an intensity that rivaled the fire for volume. Even as his mind ordered his body to move with an almost bestial ferocity, his body refused to obey.  
  
Then Qui-Gon was there, and Obi-Wan looked up into the deeply concerned and all-too-forgiving eyes of his Master. Obi-Wan was ashamed to remember how wonderful Qui-Gon's arms had felt around him, supporting him, shielding him from the flames. Some of the heat receded as Qui-Gon added his power to the Force-shield that surrounded them. A whispered word of endearment, more sensed than heard, and Obi-Wan found the strength to rise to his feet again. Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, he allowed Qui-Gon's power to support them as they jumped.  
  
It was days before the final body count was ascertained. The number of dead was surprisingly small, a blessing that the Vicar attributed entirely to the courageous acts of the two Jedi who had been charged with the protection of his family. Qui-Gon accepted the praise and gratitude with calm dignity, but the accolades soured in Obi-Wan's hearing, driving home the knowledge that he had failed. He had disobeyed his Master, and he had failed.   
  
*Jump, Padawan.*   
  
The negotiations were concluded in only a handful of days; all parties were equally repulsed by the Ngalians' terrorist methods and decided (with Qui-Gon's help) to band together in order to defend against them. By nightfall of the final day of negotiations, the Jedi were being escorted to the Vicar's personal corvette, which would carry them home to Coruscant with all possible speed. Almost too quickly to believe, they were taking their leave of the planet, leaving the fragile new government and its sundry politics behind.   
  
The majority of Obi-Wan's physical wounds had been tended to on the planet - the numerous heat-injuries to skin and lungs, as well as the assorted bruises and strained muscles that came from crawling through a collapsing building. The Force had served him well; there were very few actual burns. The extensive medical facility on board the ship ensured that he and Qui-Gon would be completely healed by the time they returned home.  
  
Even so, the greater part of Obi-Wan's agony never truly went away.   
  
Qui-Gon said very little to him, seeming to recognize that his student required time to recover from the horrors of their mission. Obi-Wan submitted to his Master's pampering without comment, and they slept wrapped in each other's arms, sprawled across the wide bunk that they had chosen to use for the duration of their voyage. There were no dreams, which Obi-Wan attributed solely to his Master's calming presence.   
  
They gave their report to the Council immediately upon their arrival, and now Obi-Wan was ridiculously glad to be home. The bed that he shared with Qui-Gon had never felt more comforting, and although it had only been jointly his for two years now, its contours were familiar to him. Part of him was ashamed at the fact that he'd felt it necessary to retreat into this room to avoid talking to his Master, but the rest of him simply basked in the soothing Force-sense of the man that he loved. It clung like a fragrance to the room, enveloping him, and he breathed it in deeply, trying to banish the memories that plagued him.  
  
A heavy silence at the other side of the room alerted him to another's presence, and Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. He had escaped this conversation for the past three days, but the inevitable now seemed to be upon him. Qui-Gon was apparently unwilling to let his Padawan rest and continue to avoid the issues between him. Slowly, Obi-Wan let his arm drop away from his eyes.   
  
Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, regarding his apprentice with an expression of narrow concern. There was no condemnation there, much as Obi-Wan would have welcomed it. Instead, there was a hint of sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes that was somehow even more quelling.  
  
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Obi-Wan said after a moment.   
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "May I come in, Padawan?"   
  
"Of course." Obi-Wan sat up on the mattress, pulling his knees up to his chest to make room for Qui-Gon beside him. Qui-Gon came in and sat gracefully, his eyes never leaving his Padawan's face.   
  
"What is it that troubles you?" Qui-Gon asked, one hand lifting to tuck the braid back behind Obi-Wan's ear.  
  
Obi-Wan's gaze dropped, unable to meet his Master's eyes. "You know the answer to that."  
  
"You assume too much, Padawan. I would think that memories of the fire are haunting you, but somehow I think the wound runs deeper than that."  
  
For a moment, Obi-Wan had to resist the ridiculous temptation to burst into tears. His emotional stability was completely off-centered since the fire. "I gave into fear, Master," he said at last, the words a softly murmured confession. He kept his gaze securely rooted to the floor beside the bed. "And a child almost died because of it."  
  
Qui-Gon was silent a moment. Then, "You saved a great number of lives, beloved."  
  
The endearment made Obi-Wan wince before he could stop himself. "I disobeyed you. You told me to jump, and I did not."   
  
"You could not." Qui-Gon's voice was firm. It softened as he continued, "If you could have seen yourself, standing there, the child held securely in your arms. You looked like an avenging angel. I have never been more proud of you than I was at that moment, Obi-Wan." His fingers trailed in a gentle caress across Obi-Wan's cheek. "You were weakened, both physically and mentally. You had fought hard without a thought for yourself, and there are many who owe their lives to your bravery."   
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, still unable to meet his Master's gaze.  
  
Qui-Gon's hand tightened around his chin, pulling Obi-Wan's head around to look at him. Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise. "You believe that you failed me. I'm telling you that is not so. Why won't you believe me?"  
  
To Obi-Wan's consternation, he felt another stirring of tears. He blinked them away hurriedly. "I was so scared, Master," he said, rubbing his cheek into Qui-Gon's palm. His gaze never left his Master's. "I was scared, and I let that fear overwhelm my actions. And I'm afraid ... I'm afraid it could happen again."  
  
Qui-Gon's eyes darkened with empathy. "It is a difficult thing, to lose control. To be ruled by instinct, by emotion."  
  
"Yes." The fervor of Obi-Wan's agreement made it sound like a hiss. His eyes fell closed slowly, and he leaned further into Qui-Gon's touch.   
  
Qui-Gon bent to touch his lips to the skin directly below Obi-Wan's ear, and Obi-Wan's breath fluttered at the contact. "You have to learn not to fear your passions, Obi-Wan. It's a part of who you are. A part of who we all are." His lips slid lower to nuzzle at the juncture between Obi-Wan's neck and jaw.  
  
Obi-Wan tipped his head back, exposing more flesh to his Master's touch. "I love you, Qui-Gon," he whispered, feeling a familiar warmth tingle through him. Just being near to Qui-Gon was calming, and Obi-Wan's fears started to melt away in the heat of this man's love. Qui-Gon's hand slipped down and around to cup the back of Obi-Wan's head, and Obi-Wan leaned back into it, a small moan escaping his lips.  
  
Qui-Gon kissed him. The touch of the older man's lips was delectable, the feel of him, the taste. Obi-Wan opened himself to the kiss whole-heartedly, his hands finding Qui-Gon's arms and tightening around them. Tongues met and then parted with teasing promise, and then Qui-Gon pulled away. Obi-Wan made a low sound of discontent, burrowing close against his Master's chest.  
  
"Do you trust me?" Qui-Gon murmured, his breath wafting warmly across Obi-Wan's ear. Obi-Wan shivered.  
  
"Of course I trust you, Master." There could be no doubt of that. However much Obi-Wan may be doubting his own resources at the moment, he had perfect faith in his Master.  
  
"Then come with me." Qui-Gon's fingers slid down Obi-Wan's arm to curl around his hand, and his grip was gentle yet demanding as he pulled Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan looked up at the larger man with a question in his eyes. The expression in Qui-Gon's gaze was unreadable.   
  
They moved together to the other side of the bedroom, stopping beside the large chest of drawers. The late afternoon light fell in through the shuttered windows with a steely sheen, giving Obi-Wan a tingle of apprehension that he could not explain. Qui-Gon seemed to sense his unease and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and Obi-Wan's anxiety immediately dissipated. He smiled as his Master pulled the robe back off his shoulders and folded it over the back of the chair by the door.  
  
Qui-Gon's hands moved over Obi-Wan's shoulders in a warm caress, easing the tension out of them. "Relax, Obi-Wan." His voice was low.  
  
Obi-Wan obeyed as best he could, letting his head fall forward as his eyes closed. The massage felt good, and the physical pleasure eased some of his interior woes.  
  
One of Qui-Gon's hands left him for a moment to fumble around inside the drawer at their side, and then something long and silky was being draped over Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan glanced down at it in surprise, a smile curling the corners of his lips. "What's this, Master?"  
  
"A new training tool." There was no mistaking the wry humor in Qui-Gon's voice. He slid the length of white, satiny cloth back off Obi-Wan's shoulder, tickling the side of his neck. Obi-Wan chuckled softly.   
  
His laughter stopped abruptly when Qui-Gon reached around him to place the cloth over his eyes, bringing the ends back over his shoulders to tie them behind his head. Obi-Wan frowned into the suddenly oppressive darkness that enveloped him.  
  
"Qui-Gon?"  
  
Qui-Gon's breath against his ear told him that the other man was leaning in close behind him. "Trust me, Obi-Wan." Large hands smoothed down over Obi-Wan's shoulders and arms, making him shiver. "Just relax."  
  
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He and Qui-Gon had been lovers for more than two years now, and never once had Qui-Gon taken advantage of his status in their lovemaking. It felt odd to Obi-Wan that he felt so vulnerable now. He wasn't sure it was a feeling he liked.   
  
"Relax," Qui-Gon said again, and left a moist trail of heat down the side of Obi-Wan's neck with his tongue, closing his lips over a particularly inviting patch of skin and sucking deeply. Obi-Wan gasped, any objection that he might have made to the blindfold lost as the sensations surged through him. Qui-Gon's mouth felt so good, and the older man's hands were even now moving to unwind the sash at Obi-Wan's waist. Obi-Wan agreed wholeheartedly with those hands' proposed plan.   
  
Qui-Gon undressed him slowly, his fingers brushing sensually over each newly exposed patch of skin. Obi-Wan felt his body come alive under the caresses, and his erection firmed with agonizing slowness between his legs. Without being able to see, the sensations of Qui-Gon's hands on his body were doubly erotic. Even as he tried to return Qui-Gon's caresses, Qui-Gon insisted that he do nothing but stand still and let Qui-Gon touch him. His duty for the moment, Qui-Gon whispered, tongue tracing lightly along the shell of Obi-Wan's ear, was to *feel*, and nothing more.  
  
Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon pressed up behind him, still fully clothed, and slid one hand down over his naked hip to gently cup his balls. Obi-Wan let his head fall back against the other man's shoulder, his entire body trembling with suppressed desire. "Please, Master," he whispered. "Please. I need to touch you."   
  
"Peace, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chastised lightly. His voice was low and hoarse with arousal. He rubbed his beard lightly against Obi-Wan's shoulder as his thumb traced the tip of his lover's erection. "Just feel for me. Can you do that, love?"  
  
Obi-Wan groaned in frustration, but he made no other comment. He jumped when he felt the soft brush of something coarse and sinuous touch the small of his back.  
  
"Master?" The softly voiced inquiry fell past his lips before he could stop it. Qui-Gon made no remark on it, however, and Obi-Wan flinched as the weight of the thin cord settled around the back of his neck to drape over his chest. It brushed across his nipples when he breathed, making him shiver.   
  
Qui-Gon drew the lobe of Obi-Wan's ear into his mouth and began to suckle lightly, effectively silencing Obi-Wan's protests as he wrapped the cord forward around Obi-Wan's chest and then back around his ribcage, forming an X across the front of the younger man's chest. His teeth worried at the skin underneath Obi-Wan's jaw again, tongue lashing wetly across the sensitized skin. Obi-Wan moaned.   
  
Around and then forward again, the cord crossed a second time across Obi-Wan's front, this time at around the level of his midsection. Obi-Wan shifted slightly under the constricting pressure of it, but Qui-Gon's hand against his back stilled him.   
  
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" There was a smile in Qui-Gon's voice. His fingers traced down across Obi-Wan's chest, lingering over the cord that bound him, and took gentle hold of the younger man's wrist. Obi-Wan tensed as Qui-Gon drew his hand behind his back and began to wind the ends of the cord around it.   
  
"Master." There was a plea in Obi-Wan's voice. The blindfold was one thing, but this was most certainly something else entirely. "Master, what are you doing?"  
  
Qui-Gon kissed him on the edge of one shoulder, even as he reached for Obi-Wan's second wrist and began binding it loosely against the first, just above Obi-Wan's buttocks. There was enough slack in the cord to allow for comfort, but it gave absolutely no room for movement. "I'm showing you that it is not necessarily an evil thing to be out of control, my love." Another kiss against the back of Obi-Wan's neck, slightly breathless. "How do you feel?"  
  
Obi-Wan had to make a conscious effort not to curl his hands into fists. He turned his head slightly, blindly tracking what light he could see through his blindfold. After a moment's thought, he answered, "I feel subdued, Master."   
  
He felt Qui-Gon smile. "Do you find this feeling objectionable, love?" His hands fanned out over Obi-Wan's chest, teasing the younger man's nipples. Obi-Wan gasped.  
  
The cord around Obi-Wan's torso was slightly elastic, and while it was taut, it did not bind him uncomfortably. Any discomfort was solely in his mind, as he fought with the indignity of his position. "Qui-Gon," was all he could think of to say, as his Master moved around in front of him without losing body contact and bent to suckle at one of the younger man's hardened nipples.  
  
"Do you want me to stop, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon moved to the other nipple and drew it in between his teeth, nibbling lightly. His hands smoothed down over Obi-Wan's sides, thumbs massaging deeply into the hollows of his Padawan's hips.   
  
Obi-Wan strained once against the bindings on his wrists and then capitulated. "No," he said on a sigh, trying to brush his body forward against Qui-Gon's. His erection was so hard now that it was almost painful.  
  
Maddeningly, Qui-Gon retreated. There was a soft rustling of fabrics, and Obi-Wan's arousal heightened even more as he realized that Qui-Gon was undressing. He bit back the moan that wanted to escape him when he imagined the scene that the blindfold would not let him see. It was exasperating, to be so utterly vulnerable, to have the satisfaction of his passions contingent on Qui-Gon's whim.   
  
But he had said that he trusted his Master, and he'd meant it. He began to grow uncomfortable, however, as the seconds slid past and nothing happened. There was no sound but that of his and Qui-Gon's harsh breathing, nothing to feel except for the air pressing up against his naked skin. The longer Obi-Wan stood there, the more his trepidation grew. He felt a twinge of anger at his Master for putting him in this situation, which was quickly suppressed. Obi-Wan felt completely helpless, and with stunning clarity, he realized what Qui-Gon was trying to teach him.  
  
Qui-Gon had created in him a biological necessity and then stripped from him the ability to relieve it. It was a mirror of what Obi-Wan had undergone in the fire, when everything in him had screamed that he run, that he obey his Master's command to jump, but his body had been incapable of meeting his demands. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt remembered panic close in, but he focused with an effort and did what he could to release his fears. He felt his ragged breathing slow.   
  
"You begin to understand." Qui-Gon's voice was soft, and Obi-Wan felt warmed by his Master's approval. "There's no sense in worrying about what you cannot control."  
  
He tugged Obi-Wan forward then, and Obi-Wan followed without thought, trusting his Master to lead him. Gentle pressure on his shoulders urged Obi-Wan to kneel. He did.   
  
"Do you trust me, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice sounded disembodied in a world without sight, without sensation aside from the hands that teased him.   
  
"I trust you, Master." Obi-Wan pressed his cheek into a hand that ghosted against the side of his face, and he kissed the fingers as they slid past his lips.   
  
Pressure again, this time against the back of his neck, and Obi-Wan bent forward to settle his head on Qui-Gon's lap. His Master was seated, on the edge of the bed perhaps, and he was naked to the waist, his legs still encased in his leggings. Obi-Wan rubbed his face against the coarse material, inhaling his Master's sharp, musky scent. Qui-Gon loosened the hair-tie at the back of Obi-Wan's head and ran his fingers through the thick hair, loosening the tangles that he found there.   
  
"I love you, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's hands moved down over the curve of Obi-Wan's back, pausing briefly at each cross of the cord that held his lover bound. Obi-Wan arched under the sensual caress, and Qui-Gon gave his braid an affectionate tug. Obi-Wan nuzzled deeper into Qui-Gon's lap, wondering when he had ever felt so safe, so loved, and he almost laughed at the incongruity of these feelings as they moved through him. Here he was, bound and blindfolded, on his knees, aching nearly to tears with frustrated arousal, and he couldn't remember ever feeling more secure.  
  
*Control,* some distant, rational corner of his mind insisted in Qui-Gon's voice, *is only an illusion. We only do the best that we can, for as long as we can, and let the universe muddle along as best it can around us.*  
  
It was incredible, the moment when he learned a lesson with such crystal clarity. It was even more incredible to learn it amongst an air of such subdued eroticism and tender, aching need. Obi-Wan could feel his Master's erection against his cheek, warm through the fabric of his leggings. Qui-Gon's hands on his back were sensual and undemanding, caressing rather than claiming, and Obi-Wan arched back cat-like into the touch, trying to convey his deep-felt gratitude to his Master for teaching him this lesson.   
  
Almost without thought, Obi-Wan turned his head until he found the laces at the waistband of Qui-Gon's leggings. The muscles of the older man's stomach were hard under his lips, and they hardened still further once Qui-Gon understood his Padawan's intentions. Obi-Wan smiled softly to himself, pulling on the laces with consummate grace until they fell open before him.   
  
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, placing a stilling hand at the back of his Padawan's neck. His breathing was shallow, and his body shifted under Obi-Wan's touch. "It was not my intention for you to-"  
  
Obi-Wan ignored him, peeling back the thin material with his teeth until he had completely exposed his lover's erection. He inhaled deeply, savoring the musky scent of his Master's arousal. Qui-Gon's breath hitched, and his hand began to massage in slow circles at the base of Obi-Wan's neck, giving tacit acquiescence to his Padawan's silent demand.  
  
Finding his way by scent and touch, Obi-Wan closed his lips over the head of Qui-Gon's penis. Qui-Gon tensed, a gasp falling from him, and his hand tightened around the muscles of Obi-Wan's back. His legs fell open slightly, and Obi-Wan inched forward on his knees, taking advantage of the more comfortable position to slide his lips entirely down the length Qui-Gon's cock, drawing forth a hissing intake of breath that made him smile around the hardened flesh in his mouth.   
  
"Obi-Wan." There was a ragged undercurrent to Qui-Gon's voice. His hips arched up into Obi-Wan's touch, and he traced a tender line down the curve of Obi-Wan's jaw with the fingers of one hand, the other moving to catch hold of the braid at the side of his lover's head.   
  
Obi-Wan submitted completely when Qui-Gon took hold of his head and began to slowly make love to his mouth, moving his hips in a steady rise and fall that left Obi-Wan breathless. Obi-Wan hollowed his cheeks and suckled with pure abandon, working the hot flesh greedily with his tongue. Qui-Gon's movements became more and more needful, almost painful in their urgency, but before they could cause real hurt, Qui-Gon pulled his lover's head back, forcing the younger man to release him.  
  
Obi-Wan made a low cry of frustration, wrenching his head free of Qui-Gon's grip and leaning forward in a blind quest for more physical contact. The need within him was racing like wildfire now. Almost before the cry had left his mouth, Qui-Gon's lips descended on him, and he kissed Obi-Wan with an intensity that left the other man dazzled. Obi-Wan allowed Qui-Gon to ravage his mouth, moaning under the demanding pressure of lips and teeth and tongue, the taste and scent of the man that he loved completely overwhelming his senses.   
  
Never had Obi-Wan felt such raw, burning need, and it excited him almost past endurance. "Master, please," he managed to gasp, but once again, Qui-Gon anticipated him. With a brief scuffle of movement, Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan away from his lap and then bent him forward against the bed. Obi-Wan acquiesced without a word, the sheets cool and clinging under the fevered skin of his chest and stomach.   
  
This was going to be a rough one, but it was something that they both needed right now. Obi-Wan whimpered, rubbing his face against the sheets as Qui-Gon moved around behind him. The sound of rustling fabric made Obi-Wan want to keen his frustration aloud, as the picture formed in his mind of Qui-Gon pulling away his leggings and revealing his naked body to the air. Obi-Wan adored that body, and he railed inwardly against the bonds that kept him from simply devouring his lover whole. He wanted to touch, he wanted to taste, he wanted to make love to his beloved Master until they both screamed with ecstasy. Almost before the thought was completed, Qui-Gon's body draped possessively over his Padawan's back, crushing him to the mattress, and Obi-Wan turned his head to meet his Master's mouth in another bruising kiss.   
  
There were no words needed between them. Obi-Wan gasped as strong fingers probed at the opening to his anus, slick with oil. He arched back into the touch, despite the brief pain of the rough penetration. Qui-Gon groaned against Obi-Wan's ear, his other hand clasped tight over the curve of his Padawan's hip.   
  
"Force around us, I love you, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon rubbed his bearded cheek against the side of the younger man's face, marking him, and Obi-Wan crooned his ecstasy at the possessive gesture. Qui-Gon's fingers stroked against the pleasure spot within him, and Obi-Wan's breath left him in a drawn-out hiss.   
  
"Yours," Obi-Wan panted, lost in the sea of sensation that enveloped him. "Always yours, Master. Love you. Need you..."   
  
Qui-Gon pulled his fingers free of his lover's body and held the younger man's hips firmly in both hands, spreading the smooth buttocks with his thumbs. His entire weight fell against Obi-Wan's back, but Obi-Wan voiced no complaint. Carefully positioning his penis at Obi-Wan's opening, Qui-Gon entered him in one long, slick thrust.   
  
Obi-Wan cried out, arching up against the body that impaled him. There were tears now, leaking past the lower edge of the blindfold, but before Qui-Gon could mistake them for tears of pain, he began to plead for more, as hard and as fast as Qui-Gon could give it to him. Qui-Gon hesitated for only a moment before he began to move, giving his Padawan exactly what he asked for. Drawing almost completely out of Obi-Wan's body, he thrust in again with such force that it lifted Obi-Wan's knees from the floor.   
  
Obi-Wan thrashed under Qui-Gon's pinning weight, but there was no room for movement. Qui-Gon started a bruising rhythm, grunting low into Obi-Wan's ear, his hair brushing across Obi-Wan's back with each forceful thrust. His hands moved over his lover's body with sensual strokes, curling under Obi-Wan's shoulders and lifting him to run his tongue sinuously across Obi-Wan's nape. Without warning, he bit down, and even before the gasp left Obi-Wan's mouth, Qui-Gon was soothing the small hurt with lips and tongue, sending Obi-Wan's thoughts spinning dizzily away in the wake of his passion. In the end, Obi-Wan slumped against the bed and let Qui-Gon ride him, giving up all pretenses of control as he accepted the pleasures that Qui-Gon gave him.  
  
Passion built to almost blinding intensity beneath the surface of Obi-Wan's skin. His body rocked under Qui-Gon's thrusts, each jarring movement sending shards of pleasure racing through him, wrenching forth disjointed cries that he barely recognized as his own. Qui-Gon was growling low in the back of his throat, the sound giving Obi-Wan a thrill of erotic appreciation. The elder Jedi's hands slid down over Obi-Wan's hips, and he caught the younger man's erection in a determined grip. He began to pump it in time with his thrusts, squeezing the hard flesh in his hands and smearing the hot liquid that he found at the tip with his thumb. Obi-Wan threw back his head and keened.   
  
Ecstasy exploded through Obi-Wan without warning, tearing through him with a heat like liquid fire. The release snapped through him with tidal force, making his entire body shudder, and Obi-Wan buried his face against the sheets as he screamed, sheer pleasure rolling through him in wave after wave until he thought he would go mad from the intensity of it.   
  
A moment later, Qui-Gon spasmed with a harsh shout behind him, fingers digging deep into Obi-Wan's hips. Obi-Wan lay limp and satiated under the onslaught of the other man's passion, enjoying the feel of the hot pulsing fluid that was being expelled into him, knowing his Master was sharing the intense pleasure that he had been given. After a small eternity, Qui-Gon collapsed onto Obi-Wan's back again, his hair falling in silken disarray around their shoulders.   
  
The scents of sweat and semen were thick around them. Obi-Wan felt a hand stroke over the back of his head, and then the blindfold was being lifted from him. The sudden influx of light was almost blinding.   
  
"I love you, Obi-Wan." The words were a half-audible rumbling in Obi-Wan's ear.   
  
"I love you, too, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan let out a happy sigh, nuzzling back against the body that was draped over him. "Thank you."   
  
A low chuckle then, accompanied by a soft kiss on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Let me get you out of this."   
  
"Please." Obi-Wan smiled slightly. He was still trembling from the residual tremors of his orgasm.   
  
Obi-Wan waited patiently while Qui-Gon untied the knots that bound him, and then he was free, the cord sliding away from him as if it had never truly been a detriment to his freedom at all. Qui-Gon massaged his sore muscles for a moment, and then he lifted Obi-Wan in his arms, setting him onto the bed. Qui-Gon lay down beside him, and they curled contentedly into each other's arms.  
  
They lay that way for a long while, simply enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Then Qui-Gon shifted slightly, and Obi-Wan knew that it was time to continue their discussion about the fire.   
  
"What did you learn, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked. The words were casual, but the meaning behind them was not. He nuzzled affectionately into the side of his Padawan's neck, drawing the younger man further into the circle of his arms.   
  
Obi-Wan thought for a moment. It was difficult to think at all in the state of clinging lassitude that enveloped him, but he made the effort for Qui-Gon's sake. He knew that his Master was still concerned about him, and he wanted to ease his lover's fears.   
  
"I learned that I'm not omnipotent," Obi-Wan said at last, smiling into the sweet-smelling musk of his Master's hair. "I can't be in control of everything all the time. Not even myself."  
  
"And?" Qui-Gon closed his lips over the lobe of his Padawan's ear, his tongue swirling warmly over the soft flesh. He tugged lightly with his teeth, earning a small gasp and a drawn-out purr from his sated lover.   
  
Obi-Wan considered, struggling valiantly to coerce his thoughts into some semblance of order. "And that it's not something I should feel ashamed of, or belittle myself over. It's part of being human."   
  
"Those are my words." Qui-Gon's teeth on Obi-Wan's ear sank in somewhat deeper than before, drawing forth a sharp yelp from his startled Padawan. "What do you think it means?"   
  
Obi-Wan felt a flicker of resentment, there and then gone. Forcing him to think coherently after a bout of mind-blowing sex was perhaps that most cruel and unusual training tactic that Qui-Gon had ever employed against him. "I guess it means that I'm not to blame for my weakness during the fire."  
  
"Do you believe that, truly?" The question was quiet, all teasing put aside now. In Qui-Gon's voice, Obi-Wan heard all of the love that his Master held for him.   
  
"I think I'm beginning to." Obi-Wan could be nothing but honest.   
  
Qui-Gon tightened his arms around his Padawan, tucking the younger man's head under his chin. His arms closed around Obi-Wan's body as if he meant to shield him from all the nefarious hurts that the galaxy had to offer. His silence was troubled, but accepting.   
  
"It's enough," he said at last.   
  
Obi-Wan relaxed, knowing that Qui-Gon loved him no matter what else might come between them. In time, Obi-Wan supposed that he would be able to accept his Master's assurances that he had not been at fault during the fire, but for now the memories were still too fresh in his mind. Too much pain, too much terror, and he was still too close to all of it to make an accurate appraisal of his actions there.   
  
And even for an acknowledged failure, there was very little to do but count it as a lesson learned and move on.   
  
"Master," Obi-Wan said after a lengthy pause. He was drowsy with the need for sleep; the release of days of pent-up anxiety had left him more drained than he cared to contemplate.  
  
"Hmm?"   
  
It was a struggle to put his thoughts into words. "I hope, in the future, that you remember the success of this particular method of training. It's not something I would be adverse to trying again."   
  
Qui-Gon kissed him against the top of the head, and Obi-Wan could feel his smile. "Patience, Padawan. If you are amenable, I have many such lessons to teach you."   
  
Obi-Wan couldn't control the shiver of anticipation that moved through him at those words, and he knew from the tightening of Qui-Gon's arms around him that his Master had felt it, too. Obi-Wan knew without a doubt that they would be trying this exercise again.   
  
He could hardly wait for the next lesson to begin.   
  
Finis


End file.
